


One Day at a Time

by dem_hips



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dem_hips/pseuds/dem_hips
Summary: Being away from home at school is a little different from being away from home defending the universe, as it turns out.





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> A (bit of a late) Mothers' Day fic, because I hate myself :')

“Hey Pidge, what day is it?”

The first time Lance had asked was shortly after their arrival at the castle. Among the five young humans displaced from their homes, Lance had seemed the most excited about their newfound responsibility as the pilots of Voltron, but his question then was tinged with a note Pidge could only describe later as…well, lost. At the time, though, her hands and mind busy with the task of finding her way through the castle’s inner workings, she had frowned impatiently and swiveled her chair away from him.

“I don’t know, Lance. I haven’t figured out how the calendar works here yet.”

The sharper edge to her voice that suggested he might take it upon himself to try and do just that got lost among the features of the Blue Paladin’s face when he scrunched it up at her response.

“Not here. I meant…y’know, at home.”

Pidge had glanced up then. The off-handed way in which he had asked his initial question, in his usual voice that often—at the Garrison—accompanied a query meant to waste her time or others’, had faded quickly. In its place was a hint of genuine desperation Pidge had never heard from him before. Her own expression softened in response, just brief enough that Lance, looking down at the legs of her chair, never saw.

“I don’t know,” Pidge repeated, having blunted the point of her voice. “It’s a little hard to say for sure without knowing how far we are from Earth—…” Pidge’s insides squirmed. She was used to Lance’s pout, a tactic he had often used at the Garrison (mostly around girls) to get his way. The one he was shooting at the floor was different, more beleaguered. Lost.

“It would be a good challenge to figure out,” Pidge added brightly, warming to the idea even as she suggested it. “Hang on.” She rolled away from him to another console and began punching in calculations. At Pidge’s change in tone, Lance’s head had popped up, hope swelling and replacing the look on his face. He waited with uncharacteristic patience and silence while she worked, and Pidge, enjoying the novelty, took some extra time once she had come up with the answer to double- and triple-check her conclusion.

“October third. Or fourth.” She motioned him over to look at the calculations she’d scrawled, wondering if he’d understand any of it. “See, there’s a bit of uncertainty here with the curving of the… Lance? Is something wrong?”

“Oh—no. No.” In his defense, Lance tried valiantly to spread his frown into his more usual cocky smile, but his lips were having none of it. He settled for a thin, flat line, which only served to concern Pidge more. “Thanks, Pidge. I just…was wondering, that’s all.”

Pidge raised her eyebrows at him. “Is there something important about October third? Or fourth?”

From her vantage point, Pidge was sure she could detect the way Lance’s teeth clenched behind his flat-lined lips, struggling against blurting out whatever was bothering him. The flimsy barrier only worked for a second before the Blue Paladin’s grief stumbled forth in a form of a sad smile. “October first. It’s…” His shoulders shrugged suddenly, as if an involuntary measure to make his emotions seem less. It didn’t work. “It’s my youngest sister’s birthday. Was. She’s five now. I guess it doesn’t matter I missed it, since I’m not there anyway, huh? Anyway, thanks, Pidge. Sorry to waste your time—”

It was when Lance barked a mirthless laugh that Pidge’s features furrowed, and she got to her feet as the older boy turned to go. “Lance. Hey.” His back was turned, his featured obscured, but Pidge knew by the set of his shoulders he would give anything to get away from her before the thin film over his emotions cracked. He’d been like this since they met. “Turns out it’s a pretty easy calculation, and I’ve already done most of the work, so, if you ever want to know…”

Lance had left, then, without another word, but Pidge thought she saw his head bob in a bit of a nod, which she took to mean he understood.

Since then, Lance’s repetition of the question had been periodic, and from the small clipped bits of data he gave her after certain ones, Pidge came to know he’d missed three other siblings’ birthdays since they’d been defending the universe, not to mention his father’s and Christmas. As time had gone on, his reactions had grown dimmer, but the disappointment—and, Pidge suspected, guilt—never went away, no matter how clear it became that their mission as Paladins was of great intergalactic importance. Having missed more than her fair share of family birthdays already, Pidge derived a strange sense of pleasure in being able to help keep Lance connected to his family like this, but lately wondered, the longer their mission went on, if she should be continuing to enable this route of his of feeling sorry for himself. After all, she had no idea what he did once he left her with his answers, every time, in the privacy of his own room.

Knowing Lance, probably moped.

Still, it was with patience that Pidge now pulled up a spare window for calculations while Lance watched, eagerly. She had the formula down by heart, and with Coran’s help, since her first attempt she had also managed to overcome the very specific uncertainty due to the curve of the universe, but nevertheless the procedure took some time to work out, and she felt more confident with the numbers in front of her.

As always, she checked and rechecked her work, and once she was certain she cleared the window with a satisfied sweep of her arm. “May,” said Pidge. “Fourteenth. Fifteenth in the more eastern time zones.”

Whenever Pidge gave her answer, it was always very clear whether Lance had missed anything important. Either his face would lift in relief, or fall in defeat, and Pidge wasn’t sure which she preferred, for even if he hadn’t missed some birthday or another, Pidge knew it meant he soon would.

Today it fell, and her heart sank with it like clockwork. Pidge wondered again if she shouldn’t just teach him how to work the formula, so he could make himself miserable on his own. Most likely, he just needed someone else to know, without having to tell them out loud. Really, it was selfish of him. Typical Lance.

“What’s today?” she asked, as gently as she could, just as always. And normally, Lance would shrug an uncomfortable twitch of his shoulders, and give her a name of a sibling or an age, and accept her condolences and leave for his room. And Pidge would get back to whatever task had had her occupied before.

Today, Lance stared at her, his mouth frowning but different, somehow, and he didn’t offer any explanation. On Christmas, he had done that too, Pidge remembered, for obviously he had not needed to explain what he was missing on December 25th, and the rest of the day had consisted of Lance corralling the mice to find him spare lights and green machinery parts to form a tree and harassing Hunk to make him Christmas cookie-goo.

So clearly what Lance was missing today was nothing personal, but a holiday, something he expected her to recognize. Pidge watched him watching her, and wracked her brain. May fourteenth. 5/14. The date wasn’t sticking out in her mind, the numbers evoking no recollection, and her raised eyebrows slowly scrunched together.

Lance’s frown dipped further down. “Mothers’ Day, Pidge. We’re missing Mothers’ Day.”

“What did you say?”

From the far side of the room, Hunk leaned over from his own console, distress etched on his face. Since the Christmas incident, Hunk had been in on Lance’s running calendar, but usually his interactions, as far as Pidge could tell, were limited. Now, the Yellow Paladin rose from his chair and made his way over, his expression melting into a mirror of Lance’s own.

“Did you say we’re missing Mothers’ Day?” Hunk ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “Man… We’ve been out here a long time, huh? We’ve missed so much…”

Lance swallowed and glanced aside, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. “Yeah.”

“I wish there was a way I could let my mom know I’m thinking about her, y’know?” Hunk sank into the chair next to Pidge, his voice a strange mixture of fondness and hurt. “We always used to have the whole family over, my aunts and grandma and everyone, and we’d have a big party. Even last year at the Garrison I called her first thing in the morning because she didn’t want me to miss class…”

“My oldest sister was pregnant when I left,” Lance mumbled, shuffling in place as if frozen on his feet. “This’ll be her first Mothers’ Day. My mom’s first as a grandma. I can’t believe I’m missing this…”

“They probably think we’re dead.”

Lance’s mouth snapped shut. Together, he and Hunk slowly turned to Pidge. Behind her glasses, her eyes were pinned to the now blank console still hovering over her lap. Her hands were stiff and motionless below it.

“Pidge—”

She rose swiftly, her eyes never raising, focused on nothing, and tried to shoulder her way past Lance.

“Pidge!”

The older boy’s grip on her arm was strong but unprepared for how desperately Pidge struggled to remove herself from it. Hunk rose to his feet in a flash, but before he could reach her, she had slipped free, and the two of them were left watching her stalk down the hall towards her room.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_They probably think we’re dead._

What hurt more than that realization was the fact that Katie had never considered it before. It had been hard enough leaving her mom when she had gone to the Garrison, not telling her under what false pretexts she had been accepted or who the Garrison thought it was receiving when she arrived. She had promised her mom she would find the rest of their family someday, but never divulged her intentions to do it as soon as possible, no holds barred.

And now she had disappeared from the Garrison. When they called Karen Gunderson to tell her her son was missing, it would be Colleen Holt who answered. Not only would her mother think she was dead, she and the entire Garrison would know Katie had lied to her, too. First her son and her husband, and now her daughter, too…

A thick nausea curled into a jagged ball in her stomach and settled there, rankling her insides. An uncommon sensation, but she knew it well. Few times had it been this large in their eight months in space, but Katie remembered it. She clenched her teeth and clutched her stomach and tried to fight it off. But her mind was too quick and powerful, and the thing fed off that. It was impossible to fend off the images of her mother getting that call, figuring out precisely what was going on and what she had done. The disappointment, the hurt on her face, the fact that she would have forgiven her daughter instantly if she knew she was still alive…

But without that knowledge, the loss inside her would be cavernous. Colleen Holt had put a brave face to reporters interviewing her about her family’s disappearance, in the aftermath of the Charon mission, but when the lights were off and several doors were closed, Katie knew her mother questioned, constantly, whether they were still out there, still alive, still coming home. She knew her strongest motivation for believing was the daughter at her side. It had been what fueled Katie’s own determination to find them and bring them home. But now…

Now…

_Who would hold her up now?_

The nausea rose like liquid up through a catheter. Burning throat, burning eyes. Water to douse, but it felt like alcohol. Aggravating, feeding the flames. Katie’s body shook, her bones rattled.

“—dge?”

Bitter tears, that no daughter should have to see her mother cry. How many? How many since Katie had left, since they had called with the news? How many, while Katie’s mind had been occupied with formulas and figures, the call of an ancient alien weapon, the war between distant races that would have gone on whether she had been there or not?

“Pidge?”

How had she let herself forget?

“Pidge!”

Before she knew it, there were arms around her. The already blurry world grew blurrier; the fabric against which her face was pressed grew wet, and as Pidge’s mind caught up with her she found herself sobbing into Hunk’s chest, his own tears dampening the top of her head. Lance’s sniffling sounded in her ear.

For a while, that was all she heard, just the muted snuffling of each of their grieving, the weight of missed memories pressing heavily upon them all as one. Hunk’s chest shuddered with his tears, and even Lance’s sorrow dripped slow and steady against Pidge’s shoulder, and it never even occurred to Pidge to feel ashamed of the way her breath hitched in her chest and her arms scrabbled further around Hunk’s broad waist.

Time seemed to slow, the months they had spent away from home dragging on in the span of only a few minutes. Eventually their breathing quieted, their bodies stilled. Lance leaned back, just enough to drag a sleeve across his eyes; Hunk said nothing when Pidge pressed her face against his shirt to dry it, only silently offered her her glasses when she pulled back.

“Thanks.” The word croaked out from Pidge’s throat, garbled in the residual emotion still clinging to her. “Sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay, Pidge.” Hunk’s voice was soft, earnest, as warm and heavy as the hand on her back. “I haven’t really been thinking about home. I guess…it hurt too much.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t want to forget why we were fighting.”

Together, Pidge and Hunk turned to look at their fellow Paladin. With her glasses returned to their place, Pidge could clearly see the deep sorrow still lingering in Lance’s face behind they wry half-smile he wore.

“It’s like…yeah, sure, we’re fighting for the freedom of the entire universe, I know that. It’s just…y’know…” Lance fidgeted uneasily, the explanation not coming easily. “Sometimes thinking about that made it seem so—”

“Hard?”

“ _Big_. Like, I couldn’t even understand it. _I’m_ helping save the entire world from some alien empire?” Lance huffed a hollow laugh. “Feels more like a video game most of the time.”

Comprehension dawning, Pidge’s mouth slowly bent into a similar smile. “But being reminded of your family…”

“I’m saving _them_ from an alien empire? That feels like something I can do.”

“So we’ll kick Galra butt for them,” Hunk concluded, and Lance and Pidge found strength and the solid surety of his words. “And then we’ll get back to them.

“And you.” Pidge ducked her head a little beneath Hunk’s hand as it shuffled through her hair. “Your mom’s gonna be sad—of course she is. But her family wouldn’t be as amazing and strong as they are without her being even stronger and more amazing. She’ll get through, Pidge. You just focus on having a husband and a son to bring back to her once we’re done out here.”

Pidge’s smile faltered, but held. “You’re gonna make me cry again,” she accused, with a sniffly grin.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Lance promised. “Just as long as, you know…”

“I won’t tell Keith,” Pidge said.

“Not just Keith—”

“Or Allura,” Hunk added.

“ _Anyone_! Don’t tell _anyone_! “

Sharing a laugh, Hunk and Pidge stood up, leaving Lance scrambling for balance.

“Promise!”

“Promise,” they chimed.

“ _Thank_ you.” With an exaggerated huff that fooled no one, Lance got to his feet and wiped his already dry eyes one more time on the cuff of his sleeve. “And hey, uh, Pidge? If it’s too much to keep dealing with me asking what day it is, I think I could probably work out that formula of yours if you walked me through it again…er. Maybe two more times?”

Pidge snorted, but shook her head. “Nah, it’s okay. I think knowing what day it is at home might help me, too, so…if either of you ever wants to know…”

“We’ll come to you,” Hunk agreed, squeezing her shoulder as he passed to open the door. “And we’ll deal with it together if we need to.”

“Fathers’ Day will be coming up soon…”

“One sad day at a time, Pidge, okay?” Lance said, shooing her out of her own room ahead of himself.

“Sorry.” Pidge glanced back at both of them with a quietly thankful smile. “Okay. One day at a time.”


End file.
